


Much Ado About Nothing

by madaboutasoiaf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Misunderstandings, References to Shakespeare, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madaboutasoiaf/pseuds/madaboutasoiaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drama School AU in which two rivals are cast as leads in a play. Shenanigans ensue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much Ado About Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to fill a prompt from 18 months ago. I take no responsibility for the silliness within, that is all on the prompter and my enabler who urged me to watch the 1993 movie (it is totally ridiculous, 10/10 recommend). Also I know nothing about drama school so forgive any errors

Arya glared at Aegon. For once he was not smirking. He frowned at the director.

“I understand you giving me the male lead,” he said slowly, “but I do not think this a good idea.”

Olenna clapped her hands together. “You both have such _chemistry._ It will be wonderful.”

Arya flushed. “We fight all the time. There is no chemistry. I won’t do this.”

Olenna raised an eyebrow. “If you want the part you will do it. I think the lady doth protest too much. We have all felt the sexual tension. The very air crackles.”

Arya fell silent at that though there were plenty more things she wanted to say. She just did not ever want to hear Olenna Tyrell use the words sexual tension ever again. She definitely did not want to hear it about Aegon Targaryen. A glance told her his smirk was back though he had reddened a little. She began to storm out of the auditorium.

Footsteps followed her.

“We should run lines together,” Aegon said. “I’ll book a room and text you.”

Arya could not argue with it. She gave a nod and kept walking.

“If I must.”

Be at the first rehearsal on Friday,” Olenna called after her.

She kept her head down as she reached the car park. Acting was her escape. She was good at pretending, everybody said so. It finally stopped the comparisons to Sansa, almost. Sansa shone at everything she did and was going to be famous with her singing. But when Arya embraced a role she could be lost in another world where she wasn’t the horsey faced sister who did not measure up.

Jon waited for her.

“Did you get the part you wanted?”

Arya nodded. He knew something was wrong, he always knew something was wrong.

“Aegon is going to be opposite.”

Jon went very quiet. He looked like he tried to hide a smile. Her cousin had grown up with them, he was more like a brother than a cousin and he was her favourite person in the world. He usually understood, usually made her feel better but this was the one thing he had not been able to get, even though Arya told him what happened the moment they met.

 _I’ve never seen a girl with a face like yours._  
  
Aegon had been staring and one of the girls laughed and it had _hurt_. It had bothered her more than being cast as a boy right up until she turned sixteen. They didn’t know he was Jon’s brother then but that didn’t matter. Arya forgave him. She did not speak of it but she forgave him. She never forgot though. She guessed that must be why they argued.

“What is the play?” Jon asked.

“Much Ado About Nothing.”

Jon snorted and Arya hit him.

“It isn’t funny.”

Jon’s face became still, secretive in that way she hated. They weren’t meant to keep secrets.

“It kind of is,” was all he would say.

He would not tell her why.

*

Aegon was rifling through papers. He insisted they needed to practice their lines alone together outside of rehearsal. The room seemed so empty with just the two of them. Arya bit her lip. She did not want to look at him. He thought he was so much better than her. Arya was the best before he arrived. She was still the best. Acting was one thing she could really do well. Aegon Targaryen’s high cheekbones and strong jaw meant nothing. She sometimes wondered if his eyelashes were fake. No man had eyelashes that long.

_If he makes this too hard for me I will break his stupid perfect nose._

“This scene,” he said, tapping the page and showing it to her.

Arya glanced at it and nodded, closing her eyes and taking a breath and telling herself she was Beatrice.

“How do you know all your lines already?” he asked her.

She opened her eyes, annoyed at him breaking her concentration. He was smiling.

“I just do. It should not be difficult for you to be Benedick.”

He flushed. “What do you mean?”

Arya cocked her head at him, a little confused by his reaction.

“You are insufferable most of the time,” she told him. “Early Benedick will hardly be acting.”

He frowned.

“Early Beatrice is hardly acting for you either then,” he complained. “I think you enjoy tormenting me.”

Arya tugged the script from his hand, ignoring his protest. She grinned as she set it down and then turned back to him, tossing her head and putting her hands on her hips

“A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.”

He didn’t smile now, or frown. Instead he studied her for a moment before moving into an exaggerated pose, his head thrown back and an indignant expression on his face.

“I would that my horse had the speed of your tongue.”

He recited the lines with the passion they needed and Arya was momentarily startled that he knew them as well as she did then she shook her head and continued. Part of her wished she had the costume already, that always made it easier but she left her hair loose the way Beatrice would and she had chosen a smock dress like in the movie and it was enough, even if Aegon did not dress the part.

They had been at it a while, arguing constantly in character and it barely felt like pretending. She _was_ Beatrice and Aegon _was_ Benedick. He pursued her around the room, flamboyant, pulling at his pale hair in frustration until it stuck out at angles and she darted away from him, mocking, playful, quick.

It all changed suddenly.

“Peace!” he exclaimed. “I will stop your mouth.”

He caught her, seeming out of breath. Arya stilled as he gripped her waist and her eyes widened as he leaned close and pressed his mouth to hers. He was a good kisser, his lips were soft and he tasted of mint and his hands were gentle as he moved one along her back to tangle in her hair. This did not feel like pretending, Arya no longer felt like she was Beatrice and when she realised she was touching him, fingers gripping the front of his shirt as if to keep him there she quickly let go.

She pushed him away, confused. He backed up quickly.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted unhappily. “It is in the script.”

“I know,” she said stiffly.

She hurried around the room, gathering her things and unable to look at him. He was still apologising. He picked up her bag and held it out and she could not help seeing him then. He looked miserable.

_How are we going to do this?_

They could manage the arguing but this proved she had been right all along. The director knew nothing, Aegon’s reaction to kissing her told her that.

_He disliked it as much as I did._

*

Jon groaned and looked at the clock. It was late. He doubted the knocking at his door would stop though. He knew that knock. He stumbled out of bed to answer it. Arya stepped through the moment it opened.

“He kissed me,” she said, clearly dismayed.

Jon sighed.

“Wasn’t he supposed to?”

She gave him a dark look.

“We were running lines. I thought it would wait until rehearsal. I didn’t want it.”

Jon tried to make his face unreadable. If he told Arya what he really thought she would be even more stubborn that she already was. He had watched some of the rehearsals. He saw what everybody else saw, how they looked at one another when they thought nobody saw. He had known it for months.

“Did you tell him that?”

She blinked and he could see she was hurting.

“I didn’t need to. He didn’t want it either. He just did it because he thought he was supposed to.”

Jon tried not to shake his head in despair at the both of them. He had not grown up with his half brother. Jon was raised a Stark, his mother had died giving birth to him and his uncle raised him, having promised not to tell of his father. He only found out after meeting Aegon at Arya’s school. He thought he knew him well enough now and the first thing he had known for certain was how hopelessly infatuated Aegon was with Arya.

_“Arya hates me.”_

It was one of the first things Aegon spoke of at their first awkward Targaryen dinner. Rhaenys took longer to warm to him but Aegon had been charming from the first, especially once Jon knew of the misunderstanding when he and Arya met.

“Didn’t you insult her appearance?” he had said.

Aegon looked taken aback. “Why would I?”

He could not tell Arya that though. If he told his little cousin that Aegon meant it as a compliment and not an insult she would not believe him.

“Why did it have to be him?” she wailed. “I can’t bear to be near him. He is so smug and arrogant and he thinks he is clever and today was almost fun until he ruined it.”

He hugged her, glad she could not see his face. She would hit him if she did. His phone began to ring and he let her go to answer it. Rhaenys sounded exasperated on the other end.

“I cannot take much more of this. We have to do something.”

Jon mouthed to Arya to give him a moment and stepped into the next room.

“Is he there?”  
  
‘Yes,” Rhaenys hissed. “He hasn’t stopped talking about her for an hour. I think he believes that if he complains enough he will convince himself it is true.”

Jon thought for a moment.

“Bran is better at these things than I am.”

“I don’t care who intervenes,” Rhaenys growled. “Just find a way for her to know what a hopeless case he is.”

Jon thought of Much Ado about Nothing and grinned.

“I may have a plan after all.”

*

“She would die if he knew,” a familiar voice said, just loud enough for Aegon to catch it. “He mocks her already, it think it would break her to have him laugh at her over this.”

Aegon moved closer. It was his aunt who replied.

“Aegon must not know. He can be so very careless.”

He began to feel very irritated. He took another step, about to confront them and give them a piece of his mind but then he spotted the wheels and knew who Dany’s companion was. Brandon Stark sounded very solemn.

“Arya hurts easily,” he said. “Her wit is a cover, we all know that. It is a shame that her heart chooses poorly. She deserves to be loved well.”

He almost tripped on the coffee table and they fell silent. For a moment he feared they had heard him but then Dany offered Bran a coffee.

“I better not,” Bran replied cheerfully. “We’ll never make it to the hall in time. When do you expect him?”

“Not for a half hour,” came the reply. “Aegon is always late.”

Bran laughed.

“Something he and my sister do have in common.”

Aegon made his retreat, unable to believe that what he heard was true. Brandon had no reason to lie. He and Dany were always working on some deed or other, they both devoted themselves to saving the world. Often they took on hopeless causes. Aegon did not like to think he was included amongst those.

_She would die if he knew._

Aegon remembered her, laughing and flushed, evading him and then not. She had submitted to him when he held her, her dark eyes wide and her lips curled into a smile and he had _known_ she kissed him back. He had been certain of it, certain enough to begin to think she was not acting until she pushed him away.

He put a finger to his lips, unable to keep from smiling. He must not laugh, even if it was all he felt like doing. He would not hurt her. That had never been his intent, even when she tried him sorely. It all made sense now though, her retorts and scowls when Arya never behaved in such a way to others. He admired the way she made friends so easily and never understood why it did not extend to him.

Now he knew.

He hurried back quietly to retrieve what he needed for rehearsal.

*

Arya didn’t attend rehearsal, calling in sick. It wasn’t a lie, not really. She felt terrible. She was glad she had the house to herself. It meant she could stay in bed a while and when she did get up she could eat a tub of ice cream without anybody asking why.

It was still light out when she wandered onto the balcony. Arya always liked to watch the sun go down. The rocking chair made its familiar creak when she sat in it and she settled into it and tried to focus on how pretty the sky was.

“You know how I feel about this,” a stern voice said from below.

It was her father’s voice. Arya did not know he was home. She wanted to go to him. She almost did until she heard the answer.

“I know,” Jon said in a grave voice. “It is not the same though. Aegon would not want her to know. He still has not corrected the misunderstanding from when they met.”

“What misunderstanding?”

Her father sounded tired.

“The one where Aegon tried to say she was pretty and she thought he meant the opposite. He isn’t good at talking to girls.”

Arya sat very still, shocked but curious to know more. She was suspicious at first, wondering if they knew she was up there but then she brushed the thought away. Jon might be capable of that but not her father. Her father did not like games.

“I do not want Arya caught up in our history,” her father said stiffly. “There was that other boy, he seemed interested.”

“Elmar Frey? Father you cannot think to match her with him.”

Arya was as indignant as Jon. _I will choose for myself._ She was still trying to understand what Jon meant about Aegon thinking she was pretty. Only Jon and her father really said that about her. Jon had to have it wrong.

“Is there a way you can tell Aegon he is mistaken? That he must leave Arya be?”

“He won’t forget her,” Jon warned. “Rhaenys says he speaks of little else. He no longer looks twice at any of her friends. This business with the play has only made it worse. He barely sleeps and she says he has the rehearsals marked on a calendar in some kind of red ink with little hearts. I’m not certain she is entirely joking.”

Her father snorted back laughter.

“It will end when the play ends,” he finally said. “It will be over soon. It is best Arya does not know.”

Jon almost sounded guilty.

“I won’t say a word to her.”

Arya waited until she was certain they were gone and then she fled back inside, back to her room. She didn’t understand. Aegon didn’t like her, definitely not like that. He had never said anything, never done anything. She thought of the kiss and touched her lips. It had felt real but it was part of the play.

She curled up under the blankets and thought of him chasing her, smiling at her. The memory of his hand sliding up her back made her heart beat a little faster. They still had the play, they still needed to perform. Arya wouldn’t say anything to him. She wouldn’t know what to say to him. She would kiss him though and this time she wouldn’t push him away.

That was her part after all.

*

The rehearsals had not been the same. Aegon looked unsettled and Arya knew she did not behave the same, even though she tried to pretend nothing had changed. They recited their lines, getting the words right but Arya knew hers lacked the barb they once had, the sharpness they needed. Olenna grew impatient with them.

“Where is the spark? Must I provoke the two of you into an argument? You,” she pointed at Aegon. “Remember her mocking you for being a walking toothpaste commercial.”

Aegon looked startled. Arya began to shake her head but Olenna turned on her next.

“You need to remember him poking fun at your family for covering everything with wolves.” Arya opened her mouth but the old woman gave her a sharp look. “That is ridiculous by the way, he has a point.”

Arya bit back a retort about Olenna’s insistence on floral patterns for _everything_ and turned to Aegon once more. She took a breath, waited for her cue and began again.

“Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner.”

Aegon smiled at her.

“Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains.”

He put emphasis on the _fair_ and Arya did not remember him doing that before and she felt her cheeks grow warm, remembering that Jon said Aegon thought her pretty and she still didn’t believe it but Aegon was looking at her like he did think she was pretty and she quickly answered with the next line.

“I took no more pains for those thanks than you take pains to thank me-“

“Stop!” Olenna interjected. The director shook her head, looking very unhappy. “We’ll try with the final scene instead. We’ve put it off long enough.”

Arya retreated backstage, angry with herself. The stagehand, Weasel, came at her with a veil to wear and Arya smiled for her, taking it and glad for some costume. It would help, she knew it would help. She waited, the other actors joining her and then she was only one of many and she kept her head down and tried to listen to the voices carrying from onstage.

The signal came and Arya darted forward, under the lights. Claudio and Hero had their part first and then Benedick was calling for her. Arya stepped forward, flipping the veil back and Aegon’s expression softened when he saw her.

“Do you not love me?” he asked.

He sounded almost uncertain. Arya recited her line, putting feeling into it.

“Why no, no more than reason.”

Aegon raised an eyebrow.

“Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio have been deceived, they swore you did.”

His gaze was intent and Arya almost did not want to say the next line because it did not feel like acting, even with the veil. She took a breath and then blurted it.

“Do you not love me?”

He flushed red and she saw the truth written on his face, even though he was quick to say his line denying it. Arya knew there were others surrounding them, she could feel their eyes but she only saw Aegon as they kept up the exchange, the feeling there even though the words were not right, the words were Benedick’s and Beatrice’s.

Pieces of paper were thrust into their hands and Arya looked at hers, knowing it did not really say anything and that it was a prop.

“I will take thee for pity,” Aegon said but there was no pity in his expression and Arya lifted her head, thinking clearly now and knowing what she must do.

“I yield upon great persuasion,” she told him and there was truth in that at least, “and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.”

“Peace,” Aegon said hoarsely. “I will stop your mouth.”

He didn’t though. He held her like he did when they rehearsed it last time and he even dipped her the way Olenna said it had to be on opening night but then he hesitated, looking intently into her eyes as though he wanted to ask her something and Arya tightened her grip around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

*

They sat together afterwards, side by side up in the rafters. It was a place she liked. It was a place she thought Bran would have liked too, back when he could climb. That thought made her sad. Aegon took her hand in his and squeezed and she looked at him instead.

“You kissed me,” he said, sounding pleased.

“You kissed me first,” she said quickly.

He didn’t stop smiling. He leaned over so that his head was closer to hers.

“I may kiss you again,” he said as if sharing a secret.

“I’ll expect it this time,” she shot back.

She smiled at him and looked down at their joined hands.

“You were right,” he said. “I am Benedick.”

“You are,” she laughed, “and I’m Beatrice.”

She suddenly understood why Jon laughed when she told him what the play was. Aegon let go of her hand and she was disappointed until he brushed her hair away from her face, kissing her cheek.

“Much ado about nothing,” she whispered.

Aegon chuckled.

“It isn’t over yet.”

Arya nodded and turned, her nose brushing his. Their lips were almost touching. “We better keep practising then,” she said, leaning in that last little bit to kiss him once more.


End file.
